Abygail gasped in surprise and leveled him a look that cowed lesser men. Francis did not squirm, but he was mightily tempted. “Francis MacKintosh! Did you put such a notion into his head? I am surprised at you! How could you be so callous? ’Tis bad enough you’d suggest the idea, but can you imagine the life of the poor lass he chooses? Come, you know how he is with women.” She shook her head and tsked at his apparent failure of reason. “He treats them like little dogs. Pats them on the head and sends them on their way when he is done with them.”
“He has to do something, lass. The small fortune he has made on his own is nearly gone…lost to paying the earldom’s creditors. Maybe soon his freedom will be lost as well, if he lands in debtors’ prison,” Francis explained feeling the need to justify the idea. His explanation took some of the woman’s wind from her.
Abby sighed. There was no arguing that point. “But still, Jack in search of a wife? It’s hard to believe.”
“It’s hard for me, too,” Haddington agreed heartily, as he entered just overhearing this last. “But we all do as we must. Now I just need to figure out how to meet some eligible lasses in London.”
“I’m sure they’ll line up for a marriage-minded earl,” she muttered acerbically under her breath.
“I don’t need them to line up, I need them to fall to their knees.” Jack grinned. “Proposing to me!”
The men all laughed as she glowered at them.
“How can you be so heartless? It’s bad enough to even come up with such a plan, but have you no sympathy for the poor woman he would choose? He’ll treat her terribly. You know how he is.”
Francis merely shrugged now that she was outnumbered. “Jack goes to London and finds a rich wife, and his problems are solved. Either she’ll make his life hell, or they’ll end up living peaceably…away from each other. End of problem for him and her.”
“Perhaps Jack will fall in love,” Abby argued, though all three men guffawed at the very idea. “It might happen!” she claimed, causing them to burst into even greater merriment.
While the laughter died down, Richard poured a round of brandy for the men and eventually suggested, “If you don’t find a wife in London, you should make a go for Abby’s friend, the Countess of Shaftesbury.”
“Richard!” She slapped her husband on the back of the head. “I hardly think—”
“What’s this now?” Jack leapt in, cutting her off. “You have a prospect for me already?”
“No!” “Aye.” Richard and Abby spoke at the same time.
Abby stared her husband down. “No, Richard, she is only recently widowed.”
“A rich widow, you say?” Haddington stroked his chin. A widow would not be a bad idea, he thought. She might not have as many expectations from marriage as a young lass straight from the schoolroom.
Abby stood, hauling her immense belly up in front of her. “I’ve need of the conveniences, but don’t even get these thoughts into your head, Jack Merrill. The countess is my friend.” With a glare at her husband, she left the room.
Jack waited until her footsteps faded away before turning to Richard. “So, tell me now about the widow…a countess?”
Richard glanced warily down the hall. “You might be better to wait until you’ve seen the London lasses. Abby is planning to try to talk the countess into coming to Edinburgh to arrange the engagement ball and wedding of Sean and Colin to the Teynham lasses, since there’s no one else to do it while she’s laid up. If the countess decides to come up, she’ll be living in our Edinburgh townhouse by the end of the month for you to court. But try elsewhere first or Abby will have your head.”
Jack shuddered at the thought of getting on his sister’s bad side. “But she’s a rich widow? How rich?”
Richard thought of the countess and of her father. “Beyond rich.”
Jack slapped Francis on the back. “Old chap, that sounds like the lass for me.”
* * *
Later that night, Abby lay next to her big husband with her cheek against his chest, her pale blond hair cascading over them both. Raising her head, she looked down at him in disbelief. “You told him. After I specifically asked you not to? Richard MacKintosh, I have a good mind to get out of this bed and never come back.”
“As if you could, without some help,” he teased, rubbing her big belly.
“You have got to know Jack would be the absolute worst thing that could happen to Eve, don’t you?”
“By God, he’s your own brother. Surely you don’t have anything against him?”
“He’s my brother and I love him dearly, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, it’s just that Jack can be a wee bit cold when it comes to dealing with women.” She put it as tactfully as she could. “Oh, who am I fooling? The man hates women.”
“I can assure you that Jack does not hate women.”
“Ladies, then. He treats them horribly.”
“And so?”
“You’ve thrown out a lure he won’t be able to resist. Evelyn is an extremely gorgeous woman. He’s always been on the prowl for a new mistress. Now he’s looking for a wife as well! One look at her and he’s going to think he’s died and gone to heaven. I don’t know if I’d like him toying with my friend like that. Now I’ll have to warn her about him.”
Men! They always bandied together whenever faced with a reasonable woman.
“Speaking for my friend, I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt.” He reached down and cupped her bare bottom with both hands. “I think you’re more worried about his reputation than is merited. I think you should be more concerned with me.”
She gave in for a moment and nuzzled his neck. She looked up at him once more. “But, Richard….”
“I’m sure we can persuade him to keep his intentions honorable. Unlike mine at the moment.” He sucked lightly on her earlobe.
“His motives are always so cold.” she managed to gasp.
“And I am warm.”
“But…”
“Leave it alone. Some good may come of it. He may be able to bring her out of her shell.” He twisted her around until he spooned behind her. “Now, my wee angel. How about showing some concern for the situation you have your husband in?”
Abby grinned over her shoulder at her playful husband. “Concern? Like this?” She wiggled her bottom into his groin until he groaned.
“Ah, Abby, my Abby…Have I told you today that I love you?”
“Yes, but you can tell me again. Better yet, show me.”
“Can we still?”
“You think we could resist? Come, my darling, show me how much you love me.”
“As you wish, my lady. As you wish.”
Chapter 3
Habit is necessary; it is the habit of having habits, of turning a trail into a rut,
that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive.
~ Edith Wharton
Kilberry Manor
Newport, Rhode Island
May 1892
“Ahem…” Kitty Hayes turned in a daze to see her husband standing not far behind her, the silver-headed cane he held tapping lightly against the rocks.
“Freddie.” With a regretful sigh, she tucked her portfolio into her bag. “I didn’t know you had returned from your luncheon yet.”
“Apparently, that is quite true, my dear.” Tap, tap, went the walking stick. “I don’t imagine you intended to have me arrive and find you dressed as some shop girl, perched on the edge of the cliff like a tragic heroine prepared to leap to her death.”
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
She gathered her bag and pencils and stood. The landscape of Kilberry Manor was the work of landscape architect Frederick Law Olmstead and included lawns that were long and sweeping but did meet abruptly with Cliff Walk, a narrow lane that was the only barrier between the cottages along the southern end of Ochre Point Road and the sharp drop to the ocean below. She’d been seated not on the
edge of the cliff, as her husband implied, but on a nicely placed bench along the Cliff Walk that held astonishing views of the waters, especially at sunrise. She had brought her sketchbook out earlier to capture some of those views as best she could. Nor was her dress anything to be commented upon. Though not her finest afternoon gown, the simple white linen dress was appropriate for a warm afternoon without company.
Kitty bit her tongue rather than correct him, however, lest she stoke his anger. But she knew it was too late for that when Hayes caught her upper arm tightly as she began to move away from him. She winced slightly but turned to face him placidly so as not to upset him. He pulled her sketchbook from her bag and pondered the sketch for several long moments.
“Reasonable efforts,” he commented, before handing the book back to her with a long, considering, evaluation of her person. Hayes tapped his walking stick against the rock again. “Katherine, you’ve wondered again and again why I rarely leave you to your own devices, but how can I, when I am gone but an afternoon and this is what I find? Dressed as you are, attracting the attention of any number of unsavory men? Are you trying to lure a lover? Is that what you were trying to do?” He caught her chin tightly, tilting her face up. He locked his gaze with hers. “You are my wife, my dear. Mine! Remember that. Any more occurrences like this and there will be consequences. Are we understood?”
She looked up into his eyes, down at his cane, and knew he meant his words. She had felt his consequences many times before. “Yes, Freddie.”
“Very well, then.” He nodded, and to her surprise let her go. “You’ve apparently been out here quite some time, my dear. Why don’t we go indoors?”
Am I not even allowed to sit anymore? she thought bitterly, and sighed, not quite able to disguise the bitterness in her words. “I was merely strolling the Cliff Walk and drawing, Freddie. No one saw me. You needn’t have come out to fetch me in.”
“My dear, you have been sitting out here for more than hour, giving, as I said, the appearance of some tragic heroine of a bad novella.” He chuckled to himself as if he had just made a very witty observance. “The neighbors will begin to talk.”
So, he had actually marked the time she had been here, she thought without surprise as her eyes swept the area around her. “We have no neighbors who are close enough and most have better things to do than watch me. Even my parents are still in New York, as you well know.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you arguing with me, my dear?” He cleared his throat. “Let us return to our rooms, I believe we need to discuss this in depth.”
Kitty could not help cringing as he reached for her arm. It was no use to argue. She had tried many times. Whatever had prompted her to try to reason with him? Years of being subject to Freddie’s petty jealousies and anger had taught her the futility and consequence of talking back when her husband was in a mood.
He led her back across the lawns and stone terraces into the rear of the manor. Although he gave every outward appearance of merely guiding his wife inside, his grip on Kitty’s arm was painfully tight. Despite her best efforts to remain calm, she felt the same old panic rise in her throat, knowing what was to follow. Freddie calmed his expression and seemed composed but for the wild gleam in his eye, as he stopped to have a word with their Boston majordomo who had accompanied them to Newport for the summer.
The path to their rooms on the second floor was long and their pace sedate, giving Kitty time to build up a fair amount of dread before they reached their suite of rooms, but no sooner had the door shut behind them than there was a firm knock on the door.
“What is it?” Hayes hissed at the closed door, as if the person who had dared to knock on it could feel his irritated glare.
Their elderly majordomo, a wizened Chinaman by the name of Sung Li, stepped calmly into the room. “This telegram just arrived for you, sir.”
“It can wait, Sung Li. I told you on our way in I wanted no interruptions!” Hayes waved his hand with barely suppressed anger.
The servant was not intimidated in the least. Without sparing a telling glance for the room’s other occupant, he calmly added, “The messenger arrived just after we spoke and I was asked to relay that this is extremely urgent, sir.”
“Fine! Give it to me and leave.”
“Very good, sir.”
Hayes snatched the missive from his servant’s outstretched hand and waited with barely concealed impatience as the old man left the room. He never had liked having his punishments delayed; Kitty knew and wondered with a shiver of dread if it might go worse for her for the interruption. Opening the envelope, he scanned the telegram briefly then, as if stunned, he gripped it with both hands and reread it more carefully.
“I cannot believe this,” Hayes paced the floor in a furious temper as he again scanned the telegram in his hand. “Damned nuisance!”
She stood behind a high-backed armchair, grateful to be forgotten for the moment but dreadfully curious what news the unexpected missive contained, for clearly his entire focus was now on the communication.
He flung open the door and barked down the hall for the retreating servant, “Sung Li!”
The Chinaman slowly reentered the room. “Yes, sir?” His stoic calm and cultured tones were a sharp contrast to the master’s current harried state. Had he known that his usual façade of cool perfection had slipped, Hayes’ fury would only have been magnified, so Kitty wisely kept her silence.
“Sung Li, have Damson pack my bags for an extended journey,” her husband commanded sharply, referring to his longtime valet. “I have to get to the telegraph office immediately. Have him meet me at the train station.”
“Very good, sir,” Sung Li intoned with a slight bow, and removed himself from the room with a professional air. His own raging curiosity was well hidden as he went about his duty.
Hayes paced the room for a moment, muttering to himself and running his hand through his usually neatly kept hair. As he turned for the second time, his gaze fell on his wife whom he had forgotten about momentarily. “Well, Katherine,” he sneered, “it seems that our discussion will have to be postponed until another time.”
She nodded and lowered her head to hide the curl of her lip that was her only outward sign of hatred.
He marched to the door, each forceful step an indication of his anger. Anger present before the telegram’s arrival but compounded because of it. At the door, he turned. “And, Katherine…”
She looked up at him through her lashes. “Yes, Frederick?”
His expression was an odd mixture of contempt and love. His wife, whom he adored so much, for whom he would do anything in the world…who had the ability to drive him to the heights of heaven and to the deepest levels of hell with the jealousy she could ignite in him. He wanted all of her, and the desperate hatred he felt for her when he didn’t feel that his love was appreciated and returned only served to accelerate his anger. He had no control where she was concerned. None. That angered him all the more.
Urgently aware that he needed to be on his way, he could only say, “I will not forget where we left off.”
With no further farewell, he left the room. A few moments later, the slamming of the front door echoed through the manor.
“I will not forget where we left off,” she mimicked as she walked to the window of Freddie’s chamber facing the front drive.
He made it sound like a lover’s promise! As if he had been called away from some romantic interlude. Well, that had certainly never happened, in the past five years at least. Pushing the curtains aside, she watched her husband climb into the waiting carriage Sung Li had seen to without instruction, as it sprang forward as a testament to his intriguing haste.
Her curiosity returned. Whatever could have happened to make her husband rush out for an ‘extended’ trip without notice? Without packing his trunks first? He was very particular about such things, liking everything to be done just so. Yet he was off, though they had only just arrived from Boston a few days before.
>
What, exactly, did ‘extended’ imply? How long would he be gone? Lacking trust in her to ‘behave’ herself—or, more justifiably, faith that she would be there when he got back—it had been years since her husband had left her alone for more than a few hours.
Kitty clutched the draperies with both hands as the realization struck her. He had left her alone. And Damson, who usually watched over her in his absence, was apparently going with him.
She was alone.
For a long moment she stood still, stunned by the possibility her husband would be gone for a prolonged period of time. That in his haste to depart, he hadn’t come to the same realization. The elation flowed then ebbed quickly. Perhaps this was only a test. He might only be challenging her at this point, trying to see what she would do.
Wait, she tempered herself. Don’t do anything rash. Wait and see what happens.
For nearly an hour, she paced between her chamber and their shared sitting room with barely reined agitation. Emotions ranging from hope to dread washed over her as time crept by. Finally, a rush of footsteps signaled footman carrying down several trunks, sending Kitty back to the window in Freddie’s chamber.
Up went the apparently heavily packed trunks, to the top of their travel carriage. When they were secured, Mr. Damson appeared dressed to travel. He yelled at the footmen, waving his arms urgently, before he jumped in as well. The driver set off, not sparing the whip.
Kitty watched as it pulled away and was about to drop the drapery closed when she saw a piece of paper in the shrubbery at the foot of the front steps. Catching her breath, she rushed through the mansion, making her way outside. She scooped up the scrap and raced back into the house, clutching the piece of paper to her chest. Once back in her rooms, she spread it as flat as possible, and rejoiced. It was the telegram! Frederick must not have pushed it deeply enough into his coat pocket.
Thrilled, she tried to decipher the words, which had run together in the mud. It was from her husband’s secretary, she could tell. “Must come at once…” she whispered as she picked out the words. “California…railroad line…destroyed…investment capital…cargo…confiscated…”
All You Could Ask For Page 57
